The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga

by Josh VanBrakle

  Amroth didn’t answer immediately, and Rondel began to hope that he would listen to her. The ploy was desperate, but if she could separate Amroth from Feng’s influence, maybe, just maybe, she could avert the coming tragedy.

  The king closed his eyes and chuckled lightly. “I couldn’t throw away this sword even if I wanted to. Feng would never allow it.”

  With a curse, Rondel raised her blade. As feared, nothing remained of Amroth’s former self. She had no choice. Evil must be annihilated.

  The pair squared off across the expanse of field, but neither moved. After several minutes of the stalemate, Amroth resumed his earlier cackling. “I knew you wouldn’t!” he mocked. “Thanks to the Kodama-Maantec War and Feng, I know your fighting style. You rely on those eyes, because they let you react to any attack by the enemy. Therefore, you’ll never make the first attack. You’ll wait to see how I move.”

  Rondel flinched but said nothing.

  “Normally, that’s a solid plan,” the king continued, “but not against me. You can respond to my movements, but what if I don’t move at all?” The flames licking Amroth’s feet accelerated, rising around his body and engulfing him in a fireball. The king’s feet lifted off the ground.

  Without warning, the burning sphere leapt forward, Amroth at its center. Rondel’s eyes widened in shock. The king hadn’t moved a muscle to launch his attack, so Lightning Sight provided no warning whatsoever.

  Still, just enough distance separated them that she avoided Amroth and got behind him. The Liryometa hurtled toward Amroth’s neck. When it impacted the flames, however, an unexpected resistance stopped it. As though they had become solid, the fires repelled Rondel’s strike and knocked her off-guard.

  Lightning Sight gave her only a split second of notice as Amroth’s left arm swung around and the Karyozaki’s tip emerged from the flames. Rondel leapt backward, but her off-balance posture made her slow. Searing pain ripped through her as the blade slashed a long line across her cheek. She fell to her knees, grasping at her face. It felt like Amroth had poured magma into the open wound. Through the agony, the wound made her realize why the Karyozaki gave off its distinctive red glow. Feng’s magic superheated it.

  Amroth laughed. “Not bad! That swing was meant to behead you.”

  Rondel snarled in frustration. She’d known Amroth would be unlike any opponent she’d faced. Every other Dragon Knight fought alone, simply drawing on the dragon’s magic for additional strength. The Karyozaki’s botched reforging, however, meant that in Amroth’s case, Feng could actively intervene. They might occupy one body, but she battled two opponents all the same. The fire shield’s repulsion of her thrust convinced Rondel of that. Amroth couldn’t have followed her movements, nor could he have tracked the Liryometa well enough to time the block. Feng could.

  The realization that she fought both Amroth and Feng filled her with dread, but it also gave her a sliver of optimism. If she could hold out long enough, maybe she could win. Her plan was risky and far too slow considering the dangers her friends faced, but it was the only chance she had.

  Steeling herself, Rondel rose and charged the king at full speed, her body flickering as she raced over the plain. She ducked and dodged, weaved in and out, striking quick blows with her rondel. The fire stopped every attack, and each time Amroth countered with his sword. All the while, Rondel kept Lightning Sight focused on him, never wavering, barely blinking.

  As she frantically maneuvered, her enhanced senses noticed Amroth start breathing heavily. Maintaining the fireball evidently required considerable magic. Feng could control the sphere, but the dragon could only use magic he channeled through Amroth.

  After what felt like an endless procession of blows, counterblows, blocks, and narrow escapes, the fire’s intensity changed. It pushed less strongly against her attacks. Sensing victory, she leapt forward, thrusting the Liryometa to direct all her energy at a single point. The rondel easily pierced the outer layer of Amroth’s shield, but then the fire changed shape. It had formerly engulfed the king, but now it focused only on the point Rondel had struck. For a moment the two techniques clashed, sparks and flames erupting from the impact in a blinding shower. Then, with a blast of heat, Amroth’s magic shot around the Liryometa. The flame impacted Rondel like a battering ram, knocking her back fifty feet, sprawling in the dirt. Amroth collapsed on his hands and knees, sweat pouring from his body. The fires around him vanished, leaving the pair in black night.

  Rondel groaned and tried to move, then yelped as agony filled her left arm. The landing had broken it just below the elbow. The Liryometa lay a few feet away, torn free of her grip. Groping, she recovered it with her right hand and struggled to her feet. The pulsing in her arm made her dizzy, but she knew her strategy had worked. She walked over to where the king still knelt. He’d begun coughing up blood.

  “It’s over, Amroth.” Rondel tried to make her voice firm, but it quivered slightly from the pain. “As I said, you don’t understand strength. That flame shield may have protected you, but no one can maintain a spell like that for long. I knew you didn’t have the control necessary for an extended battle. Actually, I had to teach Iren the same lesson. You’ve exhausted your magic. Please, preserve your sanity. Toss aside that flawed sword and accept death gracefully. Do it for Lodia, for peace.”

  The king looked at Rondel, and to the old Maantec’s amazement, tears and a wild, terrified expression covered Amroth’s face. “Rondel!” he wailed, and his voice now sounded the way it had the day they’d departed Haldessa, “Kill me! Kill me before he comes back! Feng, he’s insane! He’s planning to—”

  Amroth never finished, because at that moment, violent, wrenching laughter exited his lips, and then Rondel’s whole world exploded.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Ziorsecth Rises

  On the edge of Ziorsecth Forest, Iren Saitosan waited with held breath as the Lodian army closed for the slaughter. Seconds earlier, he’d seen the pillar of flame disappear and a huge fireball he assumed was Amroth fly away from the army. He couldn’t spot Rondel, but he could picture her drawing the king away from the main battle. It was a smart tactic. According to Balear, they faced a large but unmotivated army. Keep Amroth away from the forest, and the Kodamas might just win.

  That is, if any of them showed up. Iren kept glancing behind him, but he couldn’t spot a single Kodama inside the tree line. Part of him feared they’d simply given up and fled. Aletas could just be using him and Rondel, putting them in front to kill as many as possible before dying.

  Another part, the larger part, felt differently. The queen had said she’d chosen salvation, and Iren believed her. Aletas trusted him to fight alongside the Kodamas. He would trust the Kodamas to fight alongside him.

  The Lodians’ torches provided Iren his first hint that something had changed. All at once, a dozen or so of the lights at the head of the approaching column faltered. A second later, the humans’ screams reached him. Then, all around him, he noticed a shift in the forest. The night birds and insects stopped calling. The owls, as he remembered Minawë pointing out to him in Akaku, ceased hooting. In their place was a low thrum that seemed to come from everywhere.

  With each passing second, the screams of the dying humans grew louder. Their lines broke down as the undisciplined conscripts panicked. Rondel’s words came to Iren: “That’s the point, slacker. You can’t see them, and neither can they.”

  Now he understood. The reason he hadn’t spotted any Kodamas on the battlefield was because they weren’t on it. They were above it, in the treetops, firing their bows as fast as they could manage. The narrow openings between the upper branches functioned like arrow slits, and with their green hair and brown wooden armor, no one could see them. By contrast, the Lodians’ torches and exposed position on the plain made the humans easy targets.

  Iren wished the Lodian soldiers would save themselves and withdraw, but whether through a few skilled leaders or their deep-seated fear of Amroth, they gradually reg
rouped. He couldn’t tell their losses, but Iren knew the arrow barrage must have been devastating. Even so, the tactic had run its course. The Lodians now realized they couldn’t remain on the forest outskirts. Worse, they had figured out their torches simply made them more obvious targets. Dousing their lights, the Lodian army fell into blackness. The arrows continued, but the screams came less often.

  Then a new, far more terrible sound joined the din: thundering feet. The enemy soldiers charged for the forest as quickly as possible. No doubt they hoped that once inside, they would be less exposed to the withering projectile rain.

  As the Lodians ran, Iren heard the first Kodaman cries from behind and above him in the trees. The attackers had figured out where their enemies were, and while the humans could both run and shoot over the darkened plain, the Kodamas were essentially trapped. They needed to stay close to the tree line in order to fire.

  Iren raised his shield, guarding himself in case a stray arrow tried to find him. This point in the battle was why Rondel had wanted him to hold his position. The crafty bat knew the Lodians would make a break for the forest. Once they reached the trees, firing from the canopy would become all but impossible, thanks to the tight interlocking branches of Ziorsecth’s joined trunks. If Iren could dam even a small portion of the enemy army outside the forest, though, he would give the Kodamas time to trim their numbers that much more. Drawing the Muryozaki, he steadied himself to fight for his life.

  The first wave of soldiers hit him less than a minute later. For a long time after that, he couldn’t remember what happened. He saw only flashes as his world dissolved into a never-ending series of attacks, blocks, and screams. More than one glancing blow landed on him, but the Muryozaki healed his injuries. After the first couple enemy strikes hit him, he used magic to increase his speed and strength so that the Lodians couldn’t keep pace. The ground near him became slick with blood. Caught in a nightmare, the ever-rising pile of corpses made maneuvering ever more difficult. Soon his boosted speed gave him little advantage, because he simply had nowhere to go.

  Just as Iren became convinced he would drown in the death he was creating, the enemy onslaught abruptly ceased. Glancing about, he realized he stood alone on the plain. He had cut through those rushing his position, but many more had gone right past him.

  The thrum of bowstrings fell silent, and an eerie calm settled over Lodia and Ziorsecth alike. Iren took a moment to collect himself. He wondered how many he’d slain, and how many still remained. He had no idea, but he doubted the Kodamas held the advantage.

  In any case, standing around granted him little. Charging into the forest, he readied his sword but saw nothing. He heard nothing. The sounds of battle had vanished, despite the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of remaining foes.

  As he stumbled through Ziorsecth, searching in vain for someone, friend or foe, the leaves on a nearby blackberry bush suddenly stirred. Not the faintest breeze passed through the forest understory; something had made the plant move. An enemy must have hidden himself in the shrub. Iren leapt forward, slashing the Muryozaki. It passed easily through the briars, carving away branches but nothing more. Frowning, Iren examined the bush closer. It was empty.

  “Stupid squirrels,” he muttered. He was on edge enough without the wildlife adding to his stress.

  He’d just resumed his search when a second bush stirred. This time, instead of attacking, he held his position, waiting to see what would happen. As he watched in nervous anticipation, the bush moved again. This time, he noticed other shrubs dancing as well, and something else. From deeper in the forest came a low, slithering sound. Iren panicked, fearing the approach of some monster. The terrifying noise grew in intensity, increasing in volume until it came from all directions. It sounded like a giant serpent winding its way between the trees.

  Iren’s breathing came in ragged gasps, and sweat dripped from his body. He hadn’t counted on this. Amroth must have kept some dark magic beast in reserve, waiting for the right moment to attack.

  Frantic shouts and crashing feet rushed toward him. Iren raised his sword, determined to fight Amroth’s monster. A shape flailed in the dark in front of him, but ally or enemy he couldn’t tell. Holding his attack, Iren watched the person approach and then flee straight past him as though he didn’t exist.

  Then Iren saw, not ten feet away, a pair of eyes gleaming in the dark. Dropping his shield, Iren focused magic into his right palm. Whatever this demon was, if it wanted to eat him, he’d make it suffer first. As he raised his hand to fire, however, a familiar voice issued from the direction of the eyes, “Hold, Maantec. I’m not your enemy.”

  Iren hesitated, but then he halted his spell. “My queen?”

  Aletas walked up to him, the Chloryoblaka gripped in her right hand. “What do you think?” she asked, a smirk reminiscent of Rondel on her face.

  “Think of what?” Iren asked. “What’s going on here?”

  The queen’s grin did not relent. “Don’t you know? Maantecs never were bright. Come with me; I’ll show you.”

  The queen led Iren through the woods back toward Lodia. The moment he reached the tree line, he gasped. All along the forest edge, he could see humans fleeing the forest. On their heels stampeded a horde of plants. Vines raced across the ground, whipping up and entangling foes. Briar bushes followed, slicing their enemies apart with spines. No matter how fast the men ran, the plants overtook them. Iren shuddered.

  “Behold the power of Dendryl, the Forest Dragon. Ziorsecth will rise and defend itself when enemies threaten it,” Aletas said. Her earlier smile had disappeared, and now not a flicker of enjoyment crossed her face. “This was my husband’s favorite spell, and it’s the reason the Maantecs couldn’t invade Ziorsecth. I never thought I would use it.”

  Iren’s jaw dropped. “You did this?”

  Aletas looked ill. “Yes, and it’s taken its toll. The Lodians are retreating not a second too soon. I can’t control the plants any longer.”

  The queen dropped to one knee, panting, and Iren rushed to her side. At first she recoiled, but then her exhaustion caught up with her. She leaned heavily against him, permitting him to support her weight.

  When the Kodama’s breathing calmed a little, Iren glanced north toward Rondel and Amroth’s location. The fires had disappeared, which he took as a good sign.

  Aletas must have made the same determination, because she said, “I believe the battle is over.” Relief poured from her voice. “If the fires are extinguished, Rondel must have won. I didn’t expect her to prevail.”

  “That’s proof you don’t understand Rondel at all,” Iren replied, though in truth he hadn’t anticipated Rondel’s victory either.

  To his surprise, Aletas gave him a warmhearted smile. “Perhaps. Perhaps I misjudged both of you. You are like Iren Saito in many ways, but not in those that matter most. You fought valiantly to defend Ziorsecth, despite having nothing to gain by doing so.”

  Iren’s cheeks reddened from a mixture of embarrassment and elation not just of victory, but of having Aletas accept him. Mostly so the queen wouldn’t see him in such a state, he pointed his face away from her and toward the Lodian plain. A few enemy troops had escaped, but Iren doubted they’d attack again. Amroth himself couldn’t make them reenter Ziorsecth, not after they’d witnessed ordinary weeds butcher their countrymen.

  The ease of the Kodamas’ victory amazed Iren. Just a few short hours ago, he’d huddled with his companions around a campfire, certain of failure. Now they’d achieved a miracle, and he barely felt tired. He’d hardly used any magic at all.

  At that moment, without warning, a red glow bathed the landscape. Iren and Aletas turned to the north, the source of the radiance, and their jaws dropped. A mushroom cloud expanded from the field, rising over a mile into the air. Even from so far away, the heat striking the pair was so intense they both shielded their faces. Through his fingers, Iren saw the detonation’s flames coalesce into a sight even more horrible. The base formed two legs with
long, clutching talons. A pair of wings sprouted from the fire’s midsection, stretching for hundreds of feet. Finally, at the top, a long, slender neck emerged, and atop it rested a head that narrowed to a single point, giving the entity the look of a giant, burning bird.

  Aletas collapsed, her hands gripping the soil. She gasped, “Feng!”

  Iren stared at the dragon too, a single word filling his brain. Ignoring Aletas, ignoring the promise of death that confronting such a foe represented, he shot toward Feng, that word howling from his lips.

  “Rondel!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Sacrifice

  Pain.

  That was Rondel’s world. Burns covered her, and try as she might, she couldn’t move. She lay face down, just inside the forest. When the explosion struck, the shockwave sent her flying through the air until she collided with a tree. Bones in her back shattered under the force of the impact, and she knew the blow had paralyzed her.

  Just as bad, when she opened her eyes, she couldn’t see. Even with Lightning Sight, her vision returned only white. The detonation’s intense light had burned her retinas. Dimly, she could feel trickles of blood running from both ears down the sides of her face. Amroth’s explosion must have deafened her as well.

  No, she realized as fear took hold, not Amroth’s. Feng’s.

  A slow sigh escaped Rondel as she resigned herself to death. No technique she possessed, magical or otherwise, could help her. Already she could sense Feng approaching, the withering heat of his flames increasing by the second. The temperature around her became unbearable, and she knew the Fire Dragon readied his deathblow.

  It never came. The agony wracking her body proved that well enough. Instead, a soothing sensation ran through her head. A familiar voice whispered, “Don’t try to move. I’m healing your wounds.”